


Of Body Painting and Potential Boyfriends

by TheRomanticSadist



Series: Most Things In Between [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Painting, the dream pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:11:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRomanticSadist/pseuds/TheRomanticSadist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What the fuck kind of foreplay is this?”</p><p>Jiang dropped his bag on the ground, face twisting into one of question. Prokopenko sat at one of the high chairs near the marble counter, only wearing his boxers. His arms were folded flat on the countertop and he rested his cheek on top of them so that his head was turned on the side as he leant over the top. Standing behind him, Kavinsky was staring at his back, covered in bright colours towards his neck, but they dripped into dark, murky strokes as Jiang’s eyes lowered to his hips.</p><p>“What kinky shit are you into, Jiang? I’m just painting.” Kavinsky smirked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Body Painting and Potential Boyfriends

**Author's Note:**

> Huh, I didn't think I'd actually continue this but here I am and here it is!  
> And this is totally silly *shrugs* It was fun though~  
> Inspired by the character designs of [ f0x-meets-w0lf ](http://f0x-meets-w0lf.tumblr.com/)

“What the fuck kind of foreplay is this?”

Jiang dropped his bag on the ground, face twisting into one of question. Prokopenko sat at one of the high chairs near the marble counter, only wearing his boxers. His arms were folded flat on the countertop and he rested his cheek on top of them so that his head was turned on the side as he leant over the top. Standing behind him, Kavinsky was staring at his back, covered in bright colours towards his neck, but they dripped into dark, murky strokes as Jiang’s eyes lowered to his hips.

“What kinky shit are you into, Jiang? I’m just painting.” Kavinsky smirked. He had abandoned his shirt too, and Jiang made a note to make him eat more if he could – the dude seemed a little scrawny today. It was probably the dreams exerting him again. Kavinsky’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You’re staring too long.” He growled, glaring at Jiang. Jiang rolled his eyes. He wasn’t interested in Prokopenko like that, they all knew it.

Nevertheless, Jiang averted his gaze and took out his phone. Prokopenko noted the smile but didn’t say anything as Jiang slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Didn’t see you at school today.”

Kavinsky snorted, the handle tip of the paintbrush resting on his lip. “You went?” He dipped the thin paint brush into a mug of water, washing it out and swirled the brush into the orange on the palette. Unceremoniously dripping paint on Prokopenko’s shoulder (that explained the splatters), Kavinsky began to paint a swirl of orange down to his shoulder blade, joining it with another purple streak.

“One of us should.” Jiang shot back. If they were paying for the school, it made sense that they should attempt some days. They didn’t have to, of course, but if they truly found it pointless then they’d find a way out.

Prokopenko’s attention seemed to have been caught at some point in the exchange. Though he still hadn’t moved, his gaze was now focused on Jiang, scrutinising him. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder. “What day is it?”

“You’re not high, are you?” Kavinsky smirked. Prokopenko rolled his eyes. Reaching out to ruffle Prokopenko’s hair, he answered, “Tuesday. Why, what’s important?” The question was rushed in after Prokopenko began to smile, then grin, then laugh, his shoulders shaking a little as he did.

“No wonder you went to school.” Prokopenko teased, eyes glowing with glee as he watched the muscles in Jiang’s face tense, cheeks showing off a very oblivious blush. Jiang almost managed to get Prokopenko to stop talking, but Kavinsky tapped a spot on his back – an order to keep going. “He has tutoring today.” Prokopenko stated clearly, though his tone was light and mocking.

“Shut up, Proko.” Jiang warned.

“Since when?!” Kavinsky demanded to know, frowning at his friend. Remembering he was still working on Prokopenko, he turned to place a hand on Prokopenko’s left side, his right hand holding the paintbrush as he continued to flick blue strokes to create what looked like flames coming out of a dragon’s mouth. “Why do you even go?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he washed the brush and dipped it in another colour which Jiang couldn’t see from where he stood. When he pressed the brush against Prokopenko’s skin, lightly dragging it on his human canvas, it turned out it was purple.

Finishing with those flames, Kavinsky paused and pressed his fingers into Prokopenko’s side. Jiang hadn’t answered him. “Proko. Tell me.”

Prokopenko didn’t flinch away, but he gritted his teeth together for a second. “Lynch tutors him every Tuesday lunch and Friday after school.

“How do you know that?!”

“Bullshit.” Kavinsky spat. No way would Ronan teach anyone anything. Especially one of them. He hardly turned up for class! It was rumoured that Latin was the only one he did go to, but Kavinsky wouldn’t have known. Latin was a dead language anyway.

“The older one.” Prokopenko clarified, closing his eyes as Kavinsky splattered more drops of paint on his shoulder.

Kavinsky’s frown deepened and he glanced over to Jiang. He snickered, thinking of a possible reason why Jiang might have suddenly decided to go to school. He didn’t need to, none of them did. “So? You got the hots for President-to-be?” It was a shot in the dark, but Kavinsky could tell when Jiang shifted uncomfortably from the accusation. “Holy shit!” Kavinsky cackled, throwing the brush back into the mug. It clattered around, but didn’t fall. “You fucker.”

Prokopenko tapped his fingers on the countertop. “I think Lynch tops.”

“Maybe they swap.” Kavinsky poked the dragon on Prokopenko’s back, checking if it had finished drying. It had. 

Jiang groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Stop talking shit, both of you!” 

“Oooh, hit a nerve?” Kavinsky teased. It was subtle, but Kavinsky noticed when Jiang began to blush. Kavinsky let out a cackle, threatening and terrible. Prokopenko slid up the counter so he could sit up, watching Kavinsky approach Jiang and grip his jaw in one hand. Kavinsky grinned. “You’re red.” He stated. Jiang tore away from his hold.

“Fuck off!” Jiang spat. “I don’t like him!” Despite his biting tone, Kavinsky only laughed and reached up to pat his hair. So long as Declan Lynch didn’t take him away for too long, Kavinsky didn’t care what happened. 

“K.” Kavinsky looked over at Prokopenko who stared back at him with furrowed brows. Kavinsky raised his own eyebrow at his look. Jiang rolled his eyes. They were doing one of their silent conversations again, and wanted out of it before it got onto full on eye-fucking and inevitably one of the surfaces being ruined. 

Just as Jiang picked up his bag, Kavinsky stopped him. “Paint on his back.” Jiang spun on his heel and saw Kavinsky holding out a paintbrush to him, already dipped in black paint. 

He eyed the handle suspiciously, as if it would burn him if he touched it. “What?”

Prokopenko smiled. “You can paint on me.” The implication was there: _Kavinsky is letting you do this._ “It’s nice.”

Jiang scoffed, narrowing his eyes at the paintbrush. “I want no part in your weird pre-sex ritual.” He wouldn’t put it past Kavinsky to have contaminated the paintbrush in some strange way. He didn’t want to know.

“Do it before I change my mind.” Kavinsky shoved the brush in his direction. Behind him Prokopenko pouted a little, mouthing the words ‘Do it’ over and over again until Jiang finally rolled his eyes and took the paintbrush. 

“Fine. What do I do?” Jiang washed the paintbrush, dipping it into the black paint. 

Kavinsky shrugged. “Whatever the fuck you want, but don’t screw up my dragon.” Kavinsky stood by, watching as Jiang tried to find sufficient space on Prokopenko’s back. Most of it had been taken up by a dark dragon with a spiked tail towards Prokopenko’s lower back. The flames were a strange mix of purple, orange and blue, but who was he to comment on what Kavinsky was to paint. Weirdo. The rest of his back was covered in splatters or dark, curled designs which indicated that Kavinsky had probably been here for a couple of hours. 

Surprisingly, Jiang eventually found a space at the top of Prokopenko’s neck. He changed his hold on the brush so that it was perpendicular to Prokopenko’s neck. The brush was held firmly with his thumb, index and middle finger whilst Jiang’s ring and little finger supported it from the back. “Hold still.” Kavinsky advised, squeezing Prokopenko’s shoulder. With careful precision, Jiang painted on two characters: 火龍

When he was done, Kavinsky peered at the characters. “What’s that say?”

“Says you’re an asshole.” Jiang shrugged, dropping the brush back into the mug. It was then that Jiang noticed something wrong with the paints. There was no purple. “Hey, where’s your purple?”

Kavinsky grinned like he had been waiting for someone to ask him that question for a while. Grabbing a second brush, he dipped it in the water. “Watch this.” He wiped it off on the side and swirled it into the red. Jiang knew better than to question anything with Kavinsky until he was done showing off. Though the paint which dripped off the fibres was most definitely red, as soon as Kavinsky began to paint down Prokopenko’s arm, it revealed itself to be purple. 

Jiang blinked.

Snatching the paintbrush out of Kavinsky’s fingers, he got more of the red and painted a stroke on his own arm. Purple. He repeated the action, this time grabbing Kavinsky’s arm and the result was the same. “Fuck, where’d you get this?”

“Same place as I get everything else.” Kavinsky tapped his temple. Taking the paintbrush back, Kavinsky dropped it into the mug and slung an arm around Jiang’s shoulders. “While that’s drying—”

“Is Proko asleep?” Jiang observed, noting that he hadn’t spoken for a while. That, and when he stepped to the side, Prokopenko’s eyes were closed and he seemed to be breathing slower and more evenly than normal. Kavinsky tilted his head, a small smile appearing for only a second before he steered Jiang out of the room with him.

“Anyway,” Kavinsky said as soon as they were in the hall, “tell me about Lynch. How long were you going to keep this from me?” It was fairly annoying that he had to find this out from Prokopenko, of course, but even more annoying that Jiang hadn’t told him in the first place. It was definitely more than tutoring, he could tell already.

“Nothing to keep from you,” Jiang shrugged, trying to keep it civil. “He tutors me, that’s it.” That was the truth, and Jiang didn’t care if Kavinsky believed him or not. 

Kavinsky hummed, pressing his lips together. “Invite him to the party this weekend.” He snapped his fingers, the idea already appealing to him. Taking his arm away from Jiang’s shoulders, Kavinsky poked his chest and smiled, dangerous and daring. “He should know what he’s getting into.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Click [ here ](http://ravenboyparrish.tumblr.com/post/143803137157/) to reblog it on tumblr  
> And [ here ](http://ravenboyparrish.tumblr.com) to find me there~! ♥
> 
> Edit: 23/7/16 - Hi! If any of you ship pynch, could you also check out [ Pynch week ](http://pynchweek.tumblr.com/) on tumblr since I'm co-hosting it (and will probably participate in it too)! It would be great if you could spread the word and I hope to see some of you taking part as well! ♥ Thanks!


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